The truth of the matter

I had a bad night again. I was triggered over something silly, a wrong call actually by someone in the night which wouldn’t mean much to anyone else but to me the ramifications were much greater. The panic, the emotion. The foreboding sense of danger. I might be across the other side of the globe but when it comes down to it, danger has no bounds.

As usual my brain played out a million different scenarios in the time it took the person to realise their error and apologise for the mistaken call. But by that time the primal sense of survival had kicked in and the sense of immeninent danger hung in the air. The howling wind battering the house blurring my senses only heightened my sense of unease.

Sleeping tablets and a couple of Valium later as well as my bear of a husband’s assurances that I was safe later I fell into a fitful sleep. This morning I awoke feeling like I had a hangover but without the drink. A raging migraine, dry mouth, nausea , sense of dread. My brain still keen to tease me on what last night could have meant.

I did the usual drop offs minus one daughter who is sick with flu. She has been ill all week so I’ve been pretty much confined to the house looking after her. Of course it’s not an issue, when my children are genuinely sick I nurture them as most mothers would. Perhaps the only downside to this though is that it allows me time to brood.

Already feeling down, I find myself constantly triggered by the media from the UK. I can’t exactly not watch the news and it’s impossible to avoid.

First there was Jimmy Saville, Max Clifford and then Rolf Harris. So many people quick to say the victims are lying. So many opinions and victim blaming. So many sordid details. All dinner table fodder for those that really have no idea at all. I’m sick of people being shocked and I’m sick of people asking why only now people are speaking out. I’m sick of the jokes and I’m sick of the idle chatter to pass the time.

You people have NO IDEA. Lives are ruined. Do you seriously think something happens to a person, they forget it, suddenly remember, report it, go to trial – BOOM – it’s OVER??? You might be able to wrap your chips up in that newspaper the next day but some of us, we are haunted forever. Every noise, every person, every nightmare, every anniversary, every reminder , every procedure, every mistaken call – it’s reliving the whole thing over and over and over and over.

So if you want to judge someone for decisions they made, make jokes or consider that there’s ‘no way someone like him could have done that’ or, shouldn’t they have moved on by now? why don’t you think about how you ‘d feel if that were your daughter, son, wife, sister, brother, etc telling you what had happened to them. Once it occurs in your family first hand – you will find it a lot less easy judge.

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